Healing wounds
by Roo1965
Summary: a few months after "Scar tissue" Jim’s in need of help and Dad’s the only one around to help pick up the pieces.Jim owies...Gen.written 23 July 2008


Sequel to: my ficlet **Scar Tissue**

Content warnings: Jim Whump season 3.

Summary: A few months later Jim's in need of help and Dad's the only one around to help pick up the pieces.

* * *

**Healing wounds** by Roo

_ground zero 0135_

Noise and raised voices rattled through his head, smell overwhelmed him and people were touching him _everywhere_, and there was the taste of copper in his mouth. He struggled to open his eyes and to get away from all the hands. Something plastic, shaped and awkward was round his neck preventing him from moving it.

"Calm down, sir. We're just trying to help you..." a firm male voice intruded.

"Wha….?" He stopped, speaking was absolute agony and he didn't know where he was or what was happening, and his head and neck hurt so much he forgot he hadn't opened his eyes after all. He just wished it would all go away. He pulled a shaky hand up to his face, but was gently stopped. Something was clipped onto the end of his right index finger. It pinched. A second later tape smoothed down to keep it in place. It began to itch like the other little itches across his chest. He wanted out, but groaned instead.

"Can you tell me your name?"

His mind went scarily blank. _Who was he?_ He made a distressed noise and shifted on the bed. Beeps from a machine nearby suddenly increased in tempo.

"Don't worry I'm sure it will come back."

_But what if it doesn't'?_

The person turned away "Stan, can you check the guys clothing for ID or see if the cops outside have anything useful? And _someone _page Newman again, for a consult for me? Nina, get a cold pack on stand by. Sherry, you ready to get at those cuts? Do we have slots for X Ray and CT?"

_Cops?_

Finally he managed to get an eye open, and blinked blearily at the too white walls and vivid green plastic curtain on his right hand side. He shut his eye, it felt a little gritty and painful.

"Wh're 'm I?" he tried to say round the hot stretched agony that was his face. The whole of the left side of his body throbbed in time to his heartbeat. It was weird.

"Cascade General, ER. Do you remember anything at all from the accident?"

_Accident? _Nope, nothing, except for the pain and everything overwhelming him.

Someone else moved closer, a female nurse he guessed from the faint tang of peach shampoo. Her gloved hands moved gently over his face and neck and down his arms. He drifted a bit as the squirts of saline and little tugs and blotting on his skin blended into a dull roar inside his head.

0o0

"Sir…sir, stay with me now. You've banged yourself up quite a bit and we need to take some CT pictures and X Rays , see what's going on and then we can get this neck collar off and you settled for the rest of the night. Okay?"

"Yea…arrghh!.."

"Sorry- don't talk- maybe wave your fingers, because I reckon that probable cracked cheekbone's gonna keep you quiet for a while. Try and keep your head still for me. Don't try and open your left eye yet."

_Bust cheekbone? Eye? WTF?_

"Is that the last of the glass Sherry?"

"Yeah, that I can deal with."

"That's great. Newman from Ophthalmology is coming down to check that eye out any second now."

_What the hell had he done?_

0o0

The Doc was back with more fiddling and questions and things that hurt when he did as he was asked. A painful arm, shoulder and bum leg were mild in comparison to the rest. It seemed never ending.

Finally, the doctor said "Picture time! See what's going on in that head of yours and check that eye out etcetera, etcetera."

He thought he was in quite enough pain already, but that soon paled into insignificance when he opened his eye again, took in the blurry, moving scenery and promptly barfed all over the bed, the floor and then again on someone in the lift as they took him down to get scanned. He wanted to say sorry but it hurt too much as they log rolled him back to lie flat, so he kept his eyes tight shut against the world as it sped past. He just tried to wait it out until they could give him something for the pain.

He breathed panicky through the clean up, mouth rinse and the smell of the chemical wipes. They kept trying to tell him to calm down, that it would raise his blood pressure. He was distracted by the scratchy sheets and the smells and the never ending noise. He wanted something but didn't know what exactly, just knew there was something missing.

Everything was too much. The cotton up his nose from the nosebleed when he threw up, he couldn't breathe well through his mouth, so he had a mask with air and the straps pinched against his swollen cheekbone. But that had a new cold pack lying on it and it made him shiver. There was no anchor to keep him stable and he was ripped along with the tide and into darkness.

0o0

Detective Ellison was not awake when they slid him into the CT and its gentle clicks and whirrs did not disturb him. Neither did the X- Rays. Which was just as well because when he came out and returned to ER, the Eye doctor arrived, waved lights in his eyes and then tilted him and squirted saline in his bad eye, peering for a long time with his ophthalmoscope before covering it up again.

0o0

Someone was shaking him, he lifted an arm and tried to swat it away.

"Detective Ellison? Can you wake up for me? Mr Ellison?"

_Dad?_

Someone pinched his arm.

"Huhnnn?" he struggled to open his eye and blinked one eyed at the vision in white before him, Doctor Thing he guessed. His left eye still seemed to be covered with something. His headache ratcheted up two more insane notches on the Beaufort scale.

"Detective Ellison? Do you know where you are?"

_Gimme a sec, I just woke up…_

"Uhh.." he squinted and looked around. "Hosp'l.." it was slowly coming back to him, something about his cheekbone and not moving anything. He swallowed thickly as smells began to get to him again along with the pounding of his head.

"That's right. Do you remember your name?"

"Elli'sn…tective." _But only because Doc had just said it..._

"Yes, how about your first name?"

Silence dragged as he frantically tried to get to the name that slipped past his remaining scrambled brain cells.

"The accident?"

He shook his head, only to wince as bolts of liquid fire went up his neck, flaring into his eyes. Before he knew it he had listed to one side and someone was propping him up again. He breathed deeply, trying to avert the rising tide, but he groaned, was log rolled again and was glad when a metal bowl appeared in time, in front of him. After that things got a little fuzzy.

William

It had been a long time since the phone last rang at 0215am, since he'd given up most of his business deals and there was nothing going on that would warrant panicky European stock market phone calls at this time of night. That only left bad news and trouble. He fumbled with the receiver…

"Hello? William Ellison here."

"Are you related to a James Ellison? Detective Ellison?"

_Jimmy! Dear God, he's dead!_

He cleared his throat. "Yes he's my son. Who are you?"

"This is Doctor Geraghty at Cascade General ER. He was brought in a few hours ago, an RTA."

"Okay, how bad is he?"

"We're looking at multiple contusions and soft tissue injuries to his left side from the impact."

"But he's going to be okay?"

"Well, we are a little concerned about his left eye at present but our top guy is dealing with that. All of this will resolve itself given time, but it's going to be painful- do you understand me? We'll keep him in maybe up to a week. We'll see how he does."

_Dear God, a week? His eye?_

"I don't mean to be rude Doctor, but why are you ringing me? Where's his friend Blair Sandburg or his boss, Captain Banks? Oh, no were they in the car with him? Are they injured too?"

"No, there was no-one else in his car. That's the thing, Mr Ellison I've tried these other numbers in his wallet but I'm not getting any replies just voicemail and seeing as your son's been in and out of consciousness I wanted someone he knows to keep him a bit more focussed. He's not getting as much rest as I'd like to see."

"He prefers Jim. When you say in and out…is that bad?"

"Well it's not good, I don't like the drifting but it could be worse. I also have to say that the other reason he hasn't asked for these other people is that he's experiencing some memory loss."

"What? But …you said he was okay!"

"I know but this is common with this type of injury and I'm pretty confident that he'll be okay after we've finished the observation neuro checks and he gets some rest. The CT didn't reveal any bleeds, but we'll check that again in another 12 hours. If he sees you that might help jog things along. I really have to go now Mr Ellison. Can you come out right away?"

_CT? Bleeding?_

"Give me half an hour."

--

Jim 0300

_/He drifted along in the darkness of whatever this was. At least if he couldn't see it, it was one less thing bothering him, because smell, touch, taste and hearing were sure giving him hell._

_Hospital. _

_Blood and the memory BANG of an impact made him frown as his body flinched. /_

Beeps increased outside his dream.

_/He dreamt he was falling from a great height and his breathing increased with his distress. There was blood and oil, and bright green foliage wet with monsoon rain and the smell of rich damp earth. There had been shouting and now there was only silence. He could still hear the ticking of an engine cooling. He looked to his left and saw a spider web of glass and so much blood. He looked to the right and landed with a bone jarring thud onto the ground. A dark skinned man appeared, his face painted brightly in red paint, he felt hands around his head squeezing it. He screamed in pain./_

He woke all at once, yelling and confused and his throbbing face and brain about to explode, and the beeping machine going way too fast as he struggled to breathe. Everything got a bit chaotic as he realised he understood them, but they hadn't a clue what he was trying to say.

"Detective? Calm down. You're not doing yourself any good like this."

He stopped, caught by the calm tone and push of insistence behind it. Like something familiar. It was Doctor Thing again.

"That's better. Look at me, I'm just gonna shine a light in your eye again. Standard check, do you remember? Just raise your right hand if you do. Don't move your head please."

He did, kind of vaguely, so he raised his hand.

"Okay. Remember me telling you, you're in Washington ER?"

He frowned, no.

"Right, Cascade ER?"

He raised his hand.

"Mean trick I know. You remember what rank I called you just now and before? "

"Tect..ve" he mumbled.

"Try not to talk. Can you give me your first name?"

"No? How about the accident?"

_What accident?_

He shrugged lopsidedly. He realised his left side was trussed up in a sling and wrapped for support. Like a Thanksgiving Turkey. Something flashed in the front of his brain, the sound of laughter, dark curly hair and the smell of the cooked food. Then it was gone, with no name or place attached to it. _Damn it._

"Okay, let's just give it some more time."

All this thinking was tiring; he still had the neck brace which was uncomfortable. His eye shot open and his body twitched when a new cold pack was gently placed on his cheek. Someone fiddled with the stuff hung up on a pole by his bed. A tight biting pinch and then slow release on his upper right arm reminded him of the BP cuff the doctor said they'd put on. Slowly he relaxed into the pillow and the noisy, itchy smelly world he was in slid away. Maybe he'd be this Detective person when he woke up, but he wasn't counting on it.

0o0

William 0322

This time of the night or very early morning at least he could get a parking space near to the ER entrance. Then he chided himself for his abstract thought. He was too old for this kind of excitement. But it was Jimmy. How could he not? He'd left a message for Steven, and he'd had to work hard to stop Sally coming with him now. He needed her back at base. She could come by later. Jimmy would like that. And he needed to round up his son's co-workers. Where on earth were they?

A short time later he was sitting by Jimmy's bed, aghast at the sight of the black and blue bruising on his face together with all the little cuts from the glass. That doctor had said Jimmy wasn't getting any rest but he looked fast asleep. The curtain swished to one side to reveal a young male doctor (well they were all young when you got to his age).

"Doctor Geraghty I presume?"

"Likewise, Mr Ellison?"

They shook hands briefly. "He's doing fine. He's pretty banged up, and I can't give him pain medication just yet. He woke up earlier, some kind of nightmare, or could be something from the accident so I had to give him something to calm him down. But he wasn't speaking in English. Something I've never heard before and nothing people here could identify. And trust me, people here? They've seen everything! This ringing any bells for you?"

"No. I have no idea. I mean if wasn't something European or Chinese or Japanese I don't know what to suggest. I haven't really seen a lot of him, only recently. Before that not for at least 15 odd years. He went into the Army, became a Ranger."

"Oh, well. But maybe that does explain why he's so restless and disturbed by everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know anything about this old injury here?" the Doctor pointed to a ragged scar line on left side of Jim's head. It was a few centimetres above a new line of stitches showing starkly in a small shaved patch amongst Jim's damp hair.

William shrugged helplessly. "Never seen it before. The only thing I can think of is when he crashed with his unit and was missing for 18 months. He doesn't talk about it, not to me anyway."

"Well, guess you're only seeing it now 'cause of tonight's accident. And there's nothing else you can tell me, that's not in his notes?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I was wondering if he'd had training to resist drugs or just hates being confined? Or been exposed to other chemicals? Because he's coming out in reactions to our surgical tape and they are non allergic for good reason. Like I said he's not getting the rest he needs to recover."

"His friend Blair Sandburg should be here, he's better at all this. Calming him down and such." William waved an arm in Jim's direction.

_It must be his senses, he's lost control. I know nothing about this, what he does, what Blair does._

"I see from previous records that he does seem to have extreme reactions to common things. But you're here now and that should help." The doctor finished checking Jim's monitoring equipment readings and smiled at William.

"I'm not sure about that. I mean we've seen each other recently and it's been fine. If he doesn't remember, then I may do more harm than good."

"I never underestimate the power of family and friends, whatever form it takes, Mr Ellison. By all means stay with him until we move him out to a room. But don't get in the way of the nurses doing their job okay?" A nurse appeared "Doctor..." and with that he bustled off to some new crisis.

0o0

William was just about to get up and walk around to ease the joints that threatened to seize up from sitting in the plastic chair for nearly an hour, when Jim drew in a deep breath and his good arm twitched. He waited as Jim frowned and his uncovered eye fluttered and then slid open and shut. He groaned and opened his eye and rolled to the right as he sensed someone sitting there.

"Jimmy? You with me? It's dad." William hated seeing him so helpless and lost. He didn't know what to do.

Jim sucked in a big breath, squinting at him frowning. Suddenly his eye opened wide in recognition and he half rose up off the bed. "Dad! Wh't? I…..fell outta plane! Blair?"

"Calm down son. You're a bit mixed up. Blair's okay- I talked to some people and they said he was away for two weeks on some research writing thing he had to do for credits for his dissertation."

"'Happen? I….don' un'stand."

"As far as I can gather someone ran a red light and ploughed straight into the side of your truck pushing it into a stationary car. Wasn't your fault."

A nurse appeared and checked Jim's vitals "We're ready to transfer any minute sir."

William got out of the way as more nurses and an orderly appeared and unhooked machines and placed them on Jim's bed, then un-locked the feet and began to push the bed out of the cubicle space.

"Floor 2, room 213, sir. Come back in half an hour and you can visit again."

0o0

Jim

Apparently it was 10am, time for another neuro check. He remembered where he was, who he was and recognised his father before they shooed him away. He remained a little clueless as to the exact details of his accident and why no-one from Major Crimes had been to see him, even though his dad had apparently already told him the details twice- but they skittered away when he slept.

Blair was half way through a two week credit course. Simon was on holiday with his son Daryl, other detectives were on vacation , on duty or sick- a bug was going round. He didn't feel right; he kept jumbling things up in his memory. And his dad was here, which totally confused him. His dad was never around like this, never. He didn't know what to do with it, but it was all he had until Blair came back.

0o0

72 long hours later and Jim was better in spirit and mind, even if the body was dragging its weary heels a bit. He'd spoken several times to Blair on the phone and had felt better at once, just hearing his voice. Friends from the department had popped in to see him and let him know what was happening to his truck, insurance claim and the low life that ran into him. And his dad was still around. Sally had visited and even Steven had rung to see how he was doing.

Through it all Doctor Geraghty, had rushed in and out, being very up beat and honest about what had happened to Jim, the treatment he'd had and what to expect in the near future. The cracked cheekbone was not bad enough to need surgery thank goodness and the second CT scan hadn't shown any problems. The neck brace had been removed, and a soft foam collar placed in its stead. Finally the Eye specialist had okayed his eye, but only after a few painful rinsing sessions and careful removal of one tiny piece of glass from his eyelid. Luckily it hadn't gone into his eyeball and the scratch although painful, wasn't damaging in the long term. He would have to wear the patch for another day and rinse twice a day to be sure.

What with the bruising, the stitches and the eye patch and blood- shot eye underneath- he looked a mess. He felt a mess. But he had badgered successfully to be discharged. He wanted to go home to the loft and some peace and quiet. He allowed his dad to give him a lift back to the apartment.

William

He wondered how long Jim was going to be able to say he was "fine" when he clearly wasn't. How he thought he was going to be able to cope with the whole of his left side one big bruise was a mystery. The morning's meds were plainly wearing off and they'd only made it to the elevator.

"See- this is why I think you should spend some time with us. You're 3 floors up Jimmy. What if the elevator was out?" he said stabbing at the 3 button.

"I can walk. It's exercise" said Jim, wedging himself into the corner for support, since his left arm was still in a sling.

"It's over doing it, is what it is!"

The silence continued up the three stops and into Jim's apartment. Once inside Jim headed for the open wood steps, only to stop after the first few.

William jerked his gaze back from looking at the surprisingly spacious and neat loft back to his eldest son. He could see Jim's hand whiten on the banister he was gripping it so hard. He moved closer but Jim slowly turned round and jerkily made for the couch where he slowly lowered himself to sit. He was pale and a light sheen of sweat appeared on his face.

"Jimmy?"

"humm, gimme a minute…" he swallowed thickly and sat riding out whatever it was. William looked for the kitchen, found a glass and filled it with water. He returned and offered it to Jim. "Water." He took a few cautious sips and put it down on the table.

"I think…I think…. Maybe you and Blair were right after all. You have a ground floor guest room and I bet Sally's dying to cook up some pureed meals for me. I wasn't expecting the vertigo on the stairs just then and I feel off balance."

William knew enough not to crow about it. "I'll get some clothes from your room and whatever else you need and we'll just turn around." When he came back down stairs, he saw that Jim had retrieved his wash bag from the bathroom and was sitting at the table fiddling with the phone.

"Just changing the message on the phone for Blair or whatever, saying I'm at your place after all."

Jim

He had mixed feelings about staying at his dad's house, the Loft felt like home to him more than this building. Sally mother henned him terribly when they arrived back and before he knew it he was shooed into the guest room and told to lie down for a rest. He woke to late afternoon sunshine warming his face and a momentary flash of _where the hell am I?_ and got up feeling more like 108 than 38 and made his way to the kitchen in autopilot, looking for food and drink. To his surprise the rest of the day filled pleasantly.

He told them off the next morning for letting him sleep in so late. "You obviously needed it." he had no reply to that one.

William

"Jimmy? Blair left a message…" he stopped short on the threshold of the open door to the guest room. The room smelt damply of natural shampoo and shower gel wafting in from the bathroom. Jim sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in pants and socks, but shirtless.

He was lightly touching the side of his face with his right hand, and feeling up towards the soon-to-come-out stitches in his damp hair which was slicked to one side. The bloodshot eye was still startling to look at, and the bruising was going from bluey black to greeny- yellows all down his left shoulder and arm and in a slash across his chest where the seat belt had been.

"What?"

"When did that happen?" William asked pointing at Jim's head.

"The other night- you know…"

"No- I mean the older scar. The doctor mentioned it."

Jim ducked his head and turned away slightly to reach for his T-shirt. "A long time ago dad."

"It's not very pretty sewing if may say so."

Jim stopped threading his shirt onto his sore left arm and a faint blush rose in his cheeks.

"It was me. I did it. After the crash, alright?"

"Oh…You..? But..?"

"I was a medic. There was no-one else. What did Blair say? " Jim's voice was slightly muffled as he pulled the rest of the t-shirt over his head.

"He left a message with Sally; he's on his way back."

"Good, I mean thanks for helping out, but it'll be nice to be back home and Blair. Things will be back to normal."

"You know I never really thought about what you went through in the Army- the stuff before the crash, and then after...you were missing for so long and we didn't know ..."

"Dad…"

"We didn't know if you were alive or not, the Army couldn't tell us anything. Then they brought you back, we got a visit from officials-but you never visited."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't very good back then. I probably would have said or done something hurtful to you and Steven."

"Well, maybe you would have and maybe you wouldn't, but we'll never know. We aren't very good at this are we?"

Jim laughed and gingerly reached for an over shirt, slipping it up his left arm before shrugging into the rest of it with only a slight wince before buttoning up. "You alright dad?"

"I think so. Suddenly I see you as a grown up, not my small son or an angry young man and I feel old. I didn't like seeing you hurt in hospital like that. I realise now some of what you must have gone through alone out there, for such a long time."

Jim sat still. "Yeah it was hard, but I'm okay now. Scars faded and all healed underneath."

"Yes, but you know they are there and you can feel them all the time."

"I joined the Army dad. I knew it wasn't going to be all parades and tea dances- especially what I was doing. You know what? Shit happens. You don't expect it but you get it anyway."

"Is that what you think of your childhood? Was it really so terrible?"

"You've been talking to Blair?" Jim sighed. "No, it wasn't all terrible. But we were kids- we needed you and you weren't there, you made it all very hard and businesslike, aggressive after mom went away. What were we supposed to do?"

"Would it help if I said I was sorry? I didn't realise it then. With more time on my hands recently and after everything that happened a few months back- I see a lot of things I could have done differently."

"We all would dad. But the worst part was when you wouldn't believe me about Bud's killer and told me I was a freak."

"That was very cruel. I know that now, at the time I thought it the best way to cope. Come on, Sally's making pancakes for breakfast."

"Let's not keep her waiting."

0o0

Jim

He woke to find himself in one of the deep armchairs in the lounge. Last thing he remembered was watching some TV with his dad. His headache had dulled to a light throb. He lifted his head as he concentrated on voices in the kitchen. He eased himself out of the chair and followed the sound to find Steven with his father and Sally drinking coffee.

"Good grief!" his brother exclaimed "Dad said it looked bad, he wasn't kidding!"

"I'm doing better thanks Stevie."

"Isn't this something? All of you together in this house once again." remarked Sally as Jim poured some coffee and joined them at the table. As they all looked in surprise at each other she continued "Well, for a short time anyway."

"Yeah, it's been different." Jim said looking at his father.

END


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